Wherever You Will Go
by randxgirl
Summary: COMPLETED! "Thank you for the real friendship, that I have shared with you the last sixteen years.", he said.


Wherever You Will Go

"Thank you for the real friendship, that I have shared with you the last sixteen years.", he said.

Disclaimer: The title of this fan fiction is taken from a song of the same title. It was originally performed by The Calling. I don't own anything you recognize. Characters belong to themselves and WWE. Some parts here are taken/patterned from real-life accounts as Shawn stated in his autobiography.

Paul's P.O.V.

_So lately, been wondering_

_Who will be there to take my place_

_When I'm gone you'll need love_

_To light the shadows on your face_

"Hunter I can punish, and I have to."

It was some fifteen, sixteen years ago. It seemed like it was just yesterday, but it had actually been more than fifteen years ago, when I first got introduced to the man they call the Heartbreak Kid. It was backstage at Wrestlemania XI, when after much inquiry of where in the hell "Kevin Nash and Shawn Michaels" were, that a friendship nobody thought would go as far as ours have gone all began. He, with his then no-big-of-a-deal petite frame, was sitting in the back with a 7-foot plus giant, in farmer overalls with no shirt on, with his jeans tucked inside his boots, gold nugget jewelry on, and bad mullet haircut. Ignoring the judging hidden-backstabbing and obvious-blatant stares that most superstars, especially the veterans were giving me, I approached them nicely, and told them my intention: "I don't want to interfere, my name is Paul Levesque. I talked to Terry Taylor and he said you are the guys to hang out with. So if you don't mind, I'd like to hang out and travel with you."

I am not really sure back then what they saw in me, maybe it was the guts I had to come straight forward to two main eventers, or maybe it was they just had an eye for talent, but they took me in, and for the next years or so, we traveled together, ate together, checked-in hotels together, discussed business and talent together. Lex Luger called us the Kliq, and I'm not exactly sure either where that name stemmed from.

We were basically 5 brothers who lived in one van. And when you say "lived", in Klig language, that included a whole lot of alcohol, and sometimes even drugs. I'd admit, there were a couple of times when I doubted what Terry meant when he said that these were the guys to hang out with. Was he serious?! And more than the times I doubted Terry, I doubted the intention of these guys taking me in. Did they really see something in me, or were they just in desperate need of a driver? I didn't drink, I didn't even smoke. So I had to do all the driving. Always. Since these all happened A LOT of years ago, it just becomes something we can laugh about now. But back then, police chases, public scandals, four high drunk guys as my passengers… every single night. How we managed to do that every night I'm not sure how, but looking back now, I'm surprised that we did.

And then there were two.

Loyalty, one of the earliest things I learned from Shawn Michaels. With the emergence of WCW, the rest of the gang had to deflect, leaving only Shawn and I here. Why would I leave when I just came from there, and I went there first in preparation to be here. Why Shawn didn't follow suit was what amazed me. He and Vince always, always had a special relationship. Shawn said so himself—he had spent more time with Vince McMahon, than his own father. I guess the loyalty he had on the old man was priceless, no amount of money could replace or buy that out. How could he not, right? When Vince was the one who basically gave him the opportunity to be the superstar that he was back then. And no matter how much he pissed off or ticked off Vince, the old man always, always still had his back.

Pissed off, ticked off. Such understatements. Majority of us may have left, but the lifestyle they lived, still hang around. I can still remember those nights, when Shawn would drink himself almost to death, until he has no idea of what's going on around him anymore. I had to be at whatever bar he wanted to be that night, even if I didn't drink a single drop (okay, fine, maybe a drank a shot once in a while, but that was just one shot… and that was just once in a while, I swear), to make sure he's okay. He would drink like there's no tomorrow, let out a bunch of slurs and curses, and pass out right in front of me. I guess it's a good thing his frame is smaller after all. It makes him easier to carry back to his hotel room. The next morning, having to brave a grumpy, angry man with an ultimate hangover, I have to go wake him from his deep, deep, drunken slumber, to make sure he gets warned that Vinny Mac has his ass on wanted list again. He gets up, not after I literally pull him out of bed and drag his ass to the shower room and we head straight to the state where our next show will be held. Later that night, we walk into the nearest bar from the arena where we last performed, and repeat yesterday over again.

_If a great wave shall fall and fall upon us all_

_Then between the sand and stone_

_Could you make it on your own_

"The boyhood dream has come true."

I swear, mention that line and a fan could easily tell you from what event that came from. That line alone could probably stand as the slogan for Wrestlemania XII. For the first time ever in history: 60 minutes, 2 men, 1 championship. At the end of that night, Shawn won his first WWE Championship. You know the feeling of joy you get when a close friend achieves something and it's as if you achieved the same thing as well? It was probably one of my most embarrassing nights career-wise, having been squashed by the Ultimate Warrior in like 12 seconds on my very first Wrestlemania appearance, but during the times that I would rather forget about this fateful night, I think to myself, how could I? How could I forget this night, when this was the same night this company's greatest performer first realized his dream? Indeed, this night, so as this friendship is bittersweet. Just like I would realize more and more as years passed…

_If I could, then I would_

_I'll go wherever you will go_

_Way up high or down low_

_I'll go wherever you will go_

"Bret screwed Bret."

Ahhh… Time indeed heals all wounds. I can talk about this now in the most positive sense as if it was just a moment in our past that had to happen. Everybody knows the story. Once there was a superstar named Bret Hart, who had decided to deflect to WCW, much like most did. Upon learning of this, his arch nemesis Shawn Michaels, along with his ever loyal sidekick Hunter Hearst Helmsley, connived with Vince McMahon to not allow Bret to leave as WWE Champion. Contrary to Bret's knowledge, while Shawn locked Bret in the latter's signature move the Sharpshooter, the bell was rung, Shawn won and the two douchebags had to rush to the back, basically running for their lives. I've explained my/our side of the story a thousand of times already, and Bret has aired his as well. Twelve years is a looooong time for this to never be talked about. Emotions ran wild and were record high that night (I was actually punched in the face by a woman as we were walking back to the hotel from the arena), as we were in Bret's home country of Canada. We all know what happened after—Bret spit on Vince in front of the live audience, Bret punched Vince in the back, I got lashed out by Bret's then wife, we had to wait for everyone to leave before we could.

We had a conversation when we reached the hotel as Shawn was searching for a re-assurance that he/we did the right thing. Funny how it seemed like I'm the one reminding him about the essence of professionalism that night, when in reality, he was the one who was showing me that. He did show me, by example, every night, what professionalism is about. It is going out there, giving it your all, laying everything down and giving the best performance of your life—whether in front of a hundred people, or twenty thousand—because people paid to see you perform at your best. I remember justifying to him that Bret put us in a bad position, and we didn't have any choice. He didn't leave us with an option, so we did what we had to do, and he had to know that he did the right thing. Apparently, noone else thought we did the right thing. For years, it was just the two of us. And frankly, for all those years, it didn't matter—as long as we both knew we the same thing.

What people claim to be the darkest day in pro-wrestling history could have well been the brightest day for our friendship. We just didn't know it at that time. On this day, it was us against the world. And as cheesy and gay as that may sound, it was the truth.

_And maybe, I'll find out_

_A way to make it back someday_

_To watch you, to guide you_

_Through the darkest of your days_

"We are sending you home. We wanted to give you a chance, but we can't have that. Even Hunter said you were out of it."

A lot happened after Bret left. Shawn soon followed suit when he "lost his smile" and was told that he could never wrestle anymore after incurring an injury to his lower back. I'll admit: those were the years that we didn't have much communication, as I was starting to make a name for myself and carve a niche in the business. Nonetheless, I never really thought any less of our friendship. Yeah, we didn't have much conversation this time around—in fact I was initially surprised when I first learned he ended up getting married for a second time, and got the poor girl knocked up, and I got myself into a publicly-deemed crazy real-life love triangle that he was surprised to hear about as well—but I knew that once we got together again, we would never miss a beat. That's how it has always been for all of us. For me, Shawn, Kev, Scott and Kid.

It was the night after Wrestlemania XVII that our friendship would face a serious test. I was hoping he would have stopped already, but was not actually surprised when he showed up for a "callback" (second chance opportunity to come back) high. It was obvious he took something the night before, and Vince had to send him back home to save his ass. Apparently, somewhere in the middle of their conversation, my name was dragged into it for supposedly saying he was "out of it", and I had to endure a tirade I never expected in my whole life to ever happen. Sure, I know he had his issues, that he was angry, bitter, but I never imagined that he would someday lash out at me, as if I was a part of those issues. "You no good, back-stabbing s.o.b. After everything I've done for you..." Those were his exact words.

What I said earlier about "never missing a beat" even after long periods of time of no contact or communication at all did not exactly happen that way when we had a show in San Antonio and Shawn dropped by to see it. I saw him, and I saw that he saw him too, but we both acted as if we didn't know each other. I had a feeling that he wasn't ready to talk yet, so I didn't force the issue. Just like in wrestling, these things have to be timed properly as well. You just can't force it no matter how good it is. And I was not about to force myself to a person or in a situation I know I'm not wanted. I learned that early from Shawn himself.

_If a great wave shall fall and fall upon us all_

_Well then I hope there's someone out there_

_Who can bring me back to you_

"Shawn, I want you to enjoy this."

Just like the falling out you had with your best friend or your brother, Shawn and I did end up reconciling. Otherwise why would he be thanking me, and why would I be narrating this sappy story. It happened with just one phone call, when he called to apologize and admitted that he was wrong. I was outright honest with him by admitting I was deeply hurt with what happened, but I was willing to accept his apology. Minutes later we were friends again, and months later he was back in the WWE, this time for real, and was scheduled to face me in a street fight for his first match in four years. He won the match, and I know we stole the show. That was probably the spark that started what would be several series of rivalries we had against each other the years after. They could have seen the kind of chemistry we had in the ring when we're together. They saw it, we felt it, we all knew it. How could there not be any, when it's the number 1 and 2 guys in the business sharing the same ring? He was amazing, never missed a beat, never missed a step. That's why he is the Icon, the Main Event, the Showstopper. For a while there, I swear, I felt the world stop and just celebrate his victory. But more importantly, his return. I remember it as much as he does. At the end of that match, I told him: "Shawn, you did not need me to take care of you." And I meant every word of it. After all, it was not as if I was doing all the work load. We were taking care of each other throughout the whole time.

Four months later, we would end up meeting again, in a 2-out-of-3 falls match, and he would again come out victorious. I am royally screwed once more as he proved to the world that he deserves another championship run. Why am I screwed? Well he did it at my expense. Talk about being bittersweet… I was the proudest best friend that night. I may have been in pain lying on my back, but my heart was swelling with pride. He did it again, and I know he will enjoy it this time around.

_If I could, then I would_

_I'll go wherever you will go_

_Way up high or down low_

_I'll go wherever you will go_

"I love cocks…"

There would be no way that a HBK-HHH friendship would be discussed without the mention of D-Generation X. Mr. McMahon learned just in 2006, that you don't double cross Shawn Michaels and Triple H. Or else, it won't be pretty.

With Shawn's new found faith, there were a few (okay, I'll admit, there were a LOT of) things that we had to tweak when we brought DX back in 2006. Sure, some fans were skeptical—they thought nothing beat the original DX, or that we were "too old" (OUCH!) to drop jokes and pull sophomoric pranks, or that Shawn's conversion will make the gimmick stale. But then again, it's Shawn and I that we're talking about here. We're two of the most controversial figures in the history of this business. The day nobody talks bad about us is the day the world ends. And for every one mouth saying something bad about us, I'm sure there's another, if not two more saying something positive about us. For those who appreciate, we say thank you. For those who don't, then we've just got two words for ya…

This run meant a lot to the both of us because performing as a tag team allows us to heal physically. The usual 20 minute singles match that we had to endure night in and night out in the past was shared by the both of us, alternately. We are starting to get a bit old now, and we're not going to deny that it takes a longer time to heal now than before. Emotionally, we had the chance to bond more. Not that we needed it, but it didn't hurt either. Every time we were together, somehow, someway, something interesting always happened.

Midway with the original DX rebirth, I had to tear my other quad muscle, calling for the break-up of DX. He went to pursue a singles career again while I'm out rehabbing, and I have proven to myself that he can indeed take care of himself. When I returned and DX was reunited for one last time just last year, I may have not known yet that that would be our final run, but as always, we managed to make the most fun out of it. If he was not going to have his last match with me, at least he did have a last run with me.

It would be hypocritical of me to say that I didn't feel a bit upset when I realized that Shawn Michael's last match would be with me. But after seeing Sunday's spectacle, I don't think I would have given him the final match that he deserved after all. I'm just letting everyone know right now, that whenever Shawn Michaels gets called up into the WWE Hall of Fame, I call to be the first in line to induct him. That is if he will allow me that ultimate honor and privilege.

_Run away with my heart_

_Run away with my hope_

_Run away with my love _

I just randomly remembered last Saturday, seeing that it was Hall of Fame night (which basically is a family night), that with the impending birth of Steph and my third child, this one won't be as lucky as the first two to have gotten to know Uncle Shawn. I can only imagine, one random day, we chance upon Shawn backstage at a show somewhere in Texas. Murphy and most especially Aurora would be screaming their favorite uncle's (no matter what Shane believes) name at the top of their lungs, while Baby Levesque #3 has no clue who in the world he is. I'll think of something to be able to fix that.

_I know now, just quite how_

_My life and love might still go on_

_In your heart, in your mind_

_I'll stay with you for all of time_

You probably noticed I didn't make much mention on the Shawn Michaels superstar persona. I didn't think I had to. If you're reading this, chances are you are an HBK fan, or have at least seen him perform. He said so himself, he tried his very best to be an open book for all of his fans. You have seen for yourself who and how he is as an athlete, a superstar, an icon. And whether you like him or you don't, I'm sure that somehow, he's earned your respect. What happens behind the cameras and closed doors though is something I have had the privilege of enjoying for the last sixteen years.

_If I could, then I would_

_I'll go wherever you will go_

_Way up high or down low_

_I'll go wherever you will go_

His departure came as a shock to most, including me. I tell you, he does this skit every year. He has the whole summer off, then comes back after and does another ride. So what makes this year's skit different? Well, this time around, it's for real. And it's for good. I probably found out about it around Thursday or Friday of Mania week, when the result of the Streak-vs.-Career Match came out and The Undertaker will emerge victorious. As I was walking to the poolside of the hotel we were staying at, to approach Shawn to talk ("confront") him about his plans after Mania, from about ten feet away, I spotted him teaching little Cheyenne how to form bubbles from pool water. That happened while Cameron was dragging his mother towards Shawn and Chey, to challenge them to whatever he wanted them to play. He didn't have to tell me anymore. His eyes spoke for him. Anyone who saw him would know and understand. He was at peace. He had to do this. He wanted to do this. And he could. So he would.

As a friend, I do understand and will learn to accept.

As a fan, I will learn to understand, but doubt that I will ever accept.

Buddy, I'll be sure to miss you…

Thank you, Shawn…

_If I could turn back time_

_I'll go wherever you will go_

_If I could make you mine_

_I'll go wherever you will go_

_I'll go wherever you will go_

It's an end of an era. The Shawn Michaels era. If you would count the end of the DX era, then that would be two. But this friendship, whoever said it has to end? What, now that we have all kinds of technology available for any form of communication possible? Sure, I may not see him anymore on a weekly basis. Sure, I may not have someone to talk to about business and family all in one sentence as periodically as I used to. Sure, I may not have an assured buddy to back me up every time a new issue about me gets started on through the Internet. But I know that Shawn is still here, even in spirit. And he knows too, that I am the same with him, wherever he will go.

Hey, as old as Shawn is, he knows how to text. I can't not know how to text!


End file.
